The Nine Tailed Fox Lore
by katsue132
Summary: Ahri's journey from fox to human, and how she finds the League. I started playing LoL about a year ago, and have been fascinated with the lore behind the characters - this is just a short story I wrote during my off times at work, I hope you enjoy :)


This one gave her more of a fight than the others had.

Her heart raced in her chest as she slipped in and out of alleyways, following close behind as he stumbled forward unevenly. She wasn't sure if he was weaving back and forth in order to avoid her potential attacks, or simply because of the substantial injuries his body had taken. She could see the marks on his arms, legs, and torso; wide strips of blood, indications of where her fires and orb had eaten away at his flesh and ignited his nerves. His quick reactions and previous experience with combat were the only things that had kept him from being completely overwhelmed by her – and yet, after giving the fight all he had, she was still the hunter and he the prey. The chase had led them through the streets of the city, all the way to the canal that separated the art district from the marketplace. If it had been only hours earlier, their path would have been obstructed by hundreds of merchants and their customers. Unluckily for him, she had made her move after the sun had long sunk below the horizon, when the city was at its quietest.

He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself against the cold stone wall with one bloody hand. She frowned as she watched his movements, wondering for a split second how badly he must be hurting right now. _You're going to kill him anyway_ , she thought heatedly. _Don't concern yourself with that._ To her surprise, as she slowed and opened her hand to conjure an orb, he swung around and flung three small daggers in her direction with a quickness she hadn't expected from him. Springing to one side, she released the orb and landed lithely on her feet. She managed to knock away two of the daggers, but one slipped past the straight path of her orb and glanced off her shoulder to hit the stone behind her.

 _He's still fast,_ she realized with a hiss of pain, looking down quickly to see how deeply it had struck her. Luckily, it had mostly caught the red fabric of her dress – the cut was shallow, and only bled slightly, unlike her older wounds. The brief pain had already faded, and the sting of other gashes rose again in its place, reminding her that she needed to end this fight before he recovered any of his earlier strength.

"I'm not dead yet, little fox," the man called out softly. Her ears perked up at his voice, and she caught his gaze with her own, her purple eyes burning with mischievous laughter.

"Not yet," she echoed him, her upper lip rising in a small, snarling grin. "But you're slowing down, aren't you?"

He winced as he reached behind his waist to unsheathe another small throwing knife. "I haven't slowed down enough for you, though. Perhaps you should find another piece of meat to play with."

She laughed quietly, a musical sound that made his cheeks flush. Even after an hour of this, starting with her singling him out at the inn and luring him outside, he still hadn't given up. Her charms, which had caught him often at the beginning of their fight, were affecting him less and less now. He was learning to fight against her magic, even after such short exposure to it. _This one is different_ , she thought, her tails whipping excitedly behind her. He seemed mesmerized by this movement, and she crouched slowly as her foxfires appeared around her hands. _I do enjoy a challenge._

"I see those fires, little fox," he said warningly, a slight smile on his lips. "Your tails are beautiful, but they aren't going to distract me that much."

She stood carefully, a small amount of concentration letting her to move the foxfires in a hypnotic pattern around her. The light from the fire, a soft blue glow, illuminated her face and torso, allowing him to see her true beauty. Raven black hair framed her delicate features, matching the dark black whiskers on her cheek and the black fox ears extending from her head. In stark contrast, her nine tails fanned out behind her, their fur thick and snowy white. "You don't find me distracting?" she asked him quietly, looking down at the dancing fires. Even without clear sight of him, she could still pinpoint his exact location; her ears twitched as he let out a small breath, and she heard his heartbeat speed up.

"I can't say that I don't," he admitted, and she raised her gaze coyly to his once more, taking a deep breath as magic flared up inside of her. She could feel her eyes begin to glow, becoming an even deeper shade of purple as the charm threatened to spill out and race towards him. "Kitsune," he whispered, and she blinked in shock, her magic ebbing slightly. He had called her fox in her land's native language, something he couldn't have known unless he had been to southern Ionia. "Aren't you going to at least tell me why you're trying to kill me?"

She took a step back, her foxfires slowing in their twisting path around her. Now, she looked at him – truly looked at him, for the first time tonight. He was handsome, even bloodied and fatigued as he was now. His short blonde hair was cropped close to his head, and his sand-colored clothing was nondescript and inexpensive. The only thing of value he seemed to have on him were his knives – perfectly smooth steel in various lengths, decorated with strange writing she couldn't read, and strapped seemingly everywhere on his body for easy access during a fight. She had picked him because he was young and strong, indications of a bright life essence that she could consume and use to make her appearance more human. Only after her first charm had worn off, much quicker than she'd ever seen, did she realize that she had picked a man with a knack for fighting. And now, here he was, bleeding and exhausted and yet still continuing to surprise her. "How do you know Ionian?" she asked, frowning. She took a slow, cautious step towards him, her fires hanging sedately in the air by her hands. "You aren't Ionian; your skin is too dark, and your hair too light."

"You aren't Ionian either," he said with a smile. "At least, not really, from what I've heard about you."

 _He's heard of me?_ She swirled that thought around in her mind like she would a flavor on her tongue. _I suppose that's inevitable, if I leave behind a trail of dead men…I haven't been careful enough._

"You've been careful enough," he told her, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Keeping a low profile, hiding your beauty under a hood, only striking at night and in secluded locations…"

As he trailed off, she watched him with wide eyes. He fascinated her; even in his state of weakness, he remained calm and collected – even playful – only telling her what he knew in bits and pieces. He was toying with her, and she was not used to being on the opposite side of the strings. "If I'd been careful enough, you wouldn't have known to expect me," she said wryly, her foxfires fading even more until they were just tiny flickering lights by her hands. "And I would have known to expect you."

He coughed and winced again, one hand reaching up to clutch his shoulder. "I've just been more careful than you," he said, with a wink that made her let out a surprised laugh. She was only 20 feet away from him now, and she had enough mana to dash in and burn a fire through his heart without being hurt badly herself…and yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. "I know you could kill me at this distance," he told her as she wavered, "and based on your track record, I should be praying to the Gods right now. But you have to tell me, little fox, why you want to kill me. Why you've got so much blood on your pretty hands."

"Still complimenting me, even as you stand before me, torn apart by my magic." She shook her head incredulously, her black hair falling softly to hide her face as her smile faded. They stood quietly for a minute, his breathing much more labored than hers. Finally, she broke the silence first. "You said I wasn't really Ionian."

She looked up to see him watching her as he leaned heavily against the stone wall nearest to him. He was no longer looking at her foxfires, but rather at her face, trying to gauge her reactions. "I did. From what I've heard, you're not a human from Ionia."

"Then you must have heard what I am."

He glanced at her tails before he answered. "I've heard rumors of a beautiful, cunning, intelligent fox who happened upon a battlefield and a dying mage."

"I always knew I was different than a simple fox," she said, a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. "I was curious about humans for as long as I can remember. I felt…connected to them."

"You had magic inside of you," he told her. "The dying mage was overflowing with mana…it was spilling out of him. Your magic must have called to it."

She stared at her hands as though it was the first time she was seeing them; her slim fingers and sharp nails were pale and smooth, wherever they weren't covered in both his blood and her own. "Whatever the reason, it overtook me, and I woke up like this."

"It must've been exhilarating," he said softly, startling her. "To wonder and dream, then to finally change into that form."

"Yes," she said slowly. "It was. But it wasn't complete, as you can see."

He glanced to her tails again, then to the whiskers on her cheeks and the fox ears on her head. "You wanted to be fully human."

"I'm well on my way to becoming fully human," she admitted. "I was even more fox-like than I am now. The way I think, move, eat, speak, look…"

"How?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "Have you mastered magic other than your combat spells?"

She fell silent once more, a pang of guilt blooming in her chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that she had never experienced until after her transformation, and she couldn't get rid of it – it permeated her flesh, dug deep into her bones. "You also asked why I have so much blood on my hands."

It was his turn to pause. The silence only compounded upon her guilt, making it an almost physical pain that spread across her torso. She felt her cheeks redden and her muscles tense as she watched his hands for any signs of movement towards the knives hidden around his body. "Relax, little fox," he said gently. She looked up in disbelief to find him gazing at her, his hands open and facing towards her in a gesture of peace. "I knew you had killed those men, remember? It's not news to me. What I've learned here has made me realize just how human you've really become."

She stood there uncertainly, her foxfires growing and subsiding as she wavered between shame and relief. "I've never felt…guilt…before," she admitted quietly. "Embarrassment, shame, guilt…these emotions are uniquely human." Her brow furrowed as she told him these things, but she couldn't seem to stop. "I needed something," she blurted out finally. "I needed life forces and so I killed to get them…but as I get closer to being human, I wonder what kind of human I am really becoming."

He moved towards her and she instinctively dropped into a low crouch, her tails writhing furiously as the foxfires flared up around them. "Wait," he cried, two daggers shooting from spring-loaded sheathes into his hands. The sight of the metal, glinting in the light of her fires, made her hiss. Realizing what he'd done, he immediately opened his hands and let the knives clatter to the stone street. "I'm not trying to hurt you, little fox! I want to help you."

Her snarl faded, and her anger morphed into hesitant curiosity as she watched him pull three more knives from hidden sheaths to drop them on the ground. "I'm unarmed," he told her, his expression earnest and excited. It made him look years younger, and she realized he probably wasn't much older than her, even if his skills revealed experience beyond his years. "Please, little fox. Your morality…it's developing as you become more human. I want to help you become the human you're destined to be."

"How can you help me?" she asked warily. Her heart secretly ached with the possibility of his promises. "You have no magic, or you would have used it against me. Your talents are in knife throwing and combat."

"I'm not a bad archer, either," he said with a small smile, and she couldn't help but smile back. "Listen, little fox. It's true I have no magic or mana, and I don't know many mages either. But I've heard of a place…in legends. A place that could help grant your wish."

She drew her foxfires back into herself as she stood and took a single step towards him. "What is this place?"

"The Institute of War." He moved towards her, only to suddenly stumble and fall to one knee. Hesitantly, she knelt beside him and held out her hand, surprising both of them. "You seem to have done quite a number on me," he chuckled, then took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. "You'd fare fine in there. It's home to some of the most powerful, good mages in Runeterra. They will help you, I'm sure of it."

"Ahri," she said softly, pointing to herself. Giving herself a name seemed only appropriate during her quest to become human. He grasped her hand solemnly and caught her gaze with his own.

"Ahri," he repeated, pulling her hand to his chest. "Thank you for sparing my life. Let me take you to the League of Legends."


End file.
